


Nightmare's Born Anew

by Rocketman23



Series: BATIM prompt drabbles [15]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Gen, Torture, blood mention, he appears on a balcony, i dont know what else to call him, some gore, thats good enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocketman23/pseuds/Rocketman23
Summary: balcony boy's origin story from ch4





	Nightmare's Born Anew

Dark as night, his skin bubbled and popped as he rose his murky form from the sludge that was once his prison, filled to the brim with voices and memories. The screams, the constant nattering of voices race around his mind, claw at the reaches of his mind. Begging to break free.

Finally breaking free from the puddle that held him for too long, he stretches his gelatinous limbs, shaking them to free himself of the ink that moves and wriggles about his form. His head hurt. Where was he? Dirt and wood coated the flooring, a stray plant growing up from the ground, unnervingly pleasant in this otherwise rotting place. Ink dripped down the walls and he walked closer to watch the slow, sinuous movement. It looked different, much different than the puddle that he had wrenched himself free from. He places a single digit, noticing then that he only had three to speak of, into the odd substance. 

It burned! He hisses, memories of his creator taking a knife to his mouth and sewing it back up. His blood being drained into a bucket as he hung limp, upside down and staring void at a triangular shape below him. Then, despite his hearts best effort to give up on life, his eyes flickering shut and breathe shuddering to a stop, the creator had shoved some thick liquid down his throat, fingers jabbing at his face in an attempt to rouse him.

He awoke surrounded by many others, some he recognised, screaming and wailing whilst others sat muted and hollowed out from within. Nothing left of that person. The first sacrifice, a young storyboard artist who had been strapped to a chair, flailed as the creator dragged him to the ink machine and threw him in. the sound was horrifying. Garbled screams and the bubbles from the ink popping. He felt his skin sear with the heat. 

The memories circle around his mind, reminding him of what he once was and what had happened, blood coating the tinged kaleidoscope and slowly fades into the recesses of his mind. The knowledge escaping him but the fear that had come with it, sticking to his skin and tainting every part of him. He shakes, arms wrapping about his body as he sinks to the ground. Sobs muffled by the wire laced where his mouth would have been. 

He screams. 

Tries to.

Tries to beg for help.

To save him from this hell.

He doesn’t know how long time passes, doesn’t think time can pass here. This is all a dream, he tells himself. He’ll wake up and be in bed, next to his lover and the day will be nice and- he forgets abruptly what he was thinking. Staring ahead and trying to fit a piece in the puzzle that was his mind. 

Where was he?

He was scared.

He wanted to go home! 

…

Home? What was that? Warmth and comfort came to mind. Though he wasn’t sure what those things were, he feels like they’re good things. 

Home. How do you say that word again? Home. His voice is muffled and he’s confused. He fumbles at his mouth and finds a cold bit of metal there. He tugs on it. It hurt. But having metal in your mouth wasn’t a good thing, right? He should take it out.

He yanks it.

He blinks and there’s ink everywhere. Huh. His jaw hangs open at a gape and tries to force his mouth to move. 

“Ho-“he coughs suddenly, his voice very scratchy. 

“Hum?” he tries. That didn’t sound right. How did it go? 

“Home” it’s strangled and ink slicks down his body with the effort. But he got it!

He doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, cautious and slow. A hand touches his shoulder slightly, catching him off guard. He swivels his head to the side, eyes wide at the new threat but he’s met with bright, glowing eyes.

“Home?” he questions dumbly. The figure crouches beside him and pulls him up, motioning further down the hall. Is that way home? 

He asks the figure “go…home…?” but the figure shakes their head slowly, starting forward and supporting his weight. 

“Come. Safe” they state, their gaze everywhere, “dangerous here” they try.

He understands, in a way, some distant memory lurking inside the murky depths of his skull. He cringes and shies away from it. He understands. Together they walk forward. He casts a longing glance back at the puddle he crawled from, hoping an exit would magically appear so he could escape.

He just wanted to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> hey did you like this fic??  
> if you did be sure to leave a kudos and comment!  
> and if you wanna see more of this kinda work please send an ask to @talesbornofink (my tumblr!)  
> stay tuned for more! buh bai!


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